


Solitude

by orphan_account



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes - fandom, bbc - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Series, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, sherlock x reader - Freeform, tv
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You lied there in the midst of the park. Screams echoed from your choking throat. Tears fell from your eyes. He lied there in the middle of his own blood. Bleeding out from a small but deadly bullet wound in his heart. </p><p>A young romance ended by a gun. Your feelings were gone in that one moment. Never again would you feel for another human. Again. </p><p>It must be your destiny to live a life of Solitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You lied there in the midst of the park. Screams echoed from your choking throat. Tears fell from your eyes. He lied there in the middle of his own blood. Bleeding out from a small but deadly bullet wound in his heart. 

A young romance ended by a gun. Your feelings were gone in that one moment. Never again would you feel for another human. Again. 

It must be your destiny to live a life of Solitude. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Four Years later …. 

 

You gripped your small suitcase in your sweaty palms. You were moving into the flat. Where your brother lives. John Watson. You had been warned by him multiple times, about his peculiar flatmate. Sherlock homes.

You were prepared for him. You had learned years ago how to be a closed book. Now it was natural to be a closed book. 

‘221 Baker Street’ you read off a slip of paper. You now stood in front of your new home. You nervously exhale and inhale. Pushing a lock of your [H/c/] hair behind your ear. You eagerly placed her hand on the cold door knob. 

You open the door that had obviously been left unlocked by John and let yourself in. You are immediately faced with stairs. Looking around yourself you walk up the lightly creaking steps to the flat. 

“John!?” you call from outside the door. Alerting both males you were outside the door. John eagerly glanced at Sherlock who sulked on his chair after learning about a new flatmate much to his own dismay. The only thing he was excited to do was to scan the new visitor. Maybe they would already want out. 

The door from your side opened revealing your enthusiastic older brother. The older brother you hadn’t seen since ‘it’ occurred. 

“[F/n] I’ve missed you” he greeted with a gleaming smile. A smile that could replace the day’s sun quite easily. 

“I’ve missed you too” you reply feeling nothing in that hollow chest of yours. You want to feel something. You wish you could truly feel something. But wanting just highlights that feeling of nothingness.  
“Well come in [F/n]. This is your new home”

Without even observing your surroundings you calmly strolled in. Observation was stupid. It was useless to someone whom lived more in their own world than they did in reality.  
“I like it.” You say not caring on how it looked. The man staring at you from his chair had your short attention span. 

Sherlock stared directly at you; his almost grey orbs swirled with curiosity. He was trying to analyse you. To learn who you were. Or to maybe send you the other way. 

He stared at your empty depths of your [E/c] eyes first. There was no information in them. Next his eyes ran over your facial expressions searching for any scars or bruises. But nothing came to avail. This made Sherlock want to find some sort of hint to your personality. 

His eyes couldn’t conclude anything of importance of your personality. Your choice of clothing showed him you didn’t care about how you present yourself. Your black combat boots showed that you didn’t usually tolerate attitude and did a lot of messy things. But nothing about who you are as a person could be settled.  
Breaking of his stare you sat down on the sofa. You placed your suitcase down beside your legs. Waiting to be directed to your room.

“Aren't you going to introduce me ?” Sherlock arrogantly asked from his seat. Still obviously sulking. Sighing John obeyed “Sherlock this is [Y/n]. [Y/n] this is Sherlock.”

“Actually it’s Sherlock Holmes.” He interrupted in a cocky tone. A tone that asked to be punched. 

“John. Where is my room?” You ask ignoring the arrogant male. 

“Already wanting space huh? your room isn't finished yet. I won’t show you until. It is finished but for now you can sleep out of here. I can put a mattress out here for you to use. It’ll only be temporarily.” John explained. He wished the room had been finished for his little sister sooner. But sadly it was taking longer than expected. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night you lied on the mattress John had place in a tight spot. You guys had, had a silent dinner. You had gone to your own world multiple times. It was the world where your old self resided. One that made you feel more human. You did zone back in a few times to just hear the clinking of utensils of your plates. But no conversation was started.

You knew John ached so badly to ask you questions. But luckily he knew not to. He had no idea about what happened. But John knew something did happen. An event that changed you from a human to a machine.

You felt exposed on the mattress. You knew yourself your memories would come back if you stayed in an open area. Acting on instinct you walked into the kitchen clutching your [F/c] quilt between your frail hands.

The food pantry was the only available option to resolve your sleeping problem. You silently opened the door to walk inside. The food pantry was small and closed in. Just how you liked it. Tired you snuggled in the corner where the shelves met. Your soft quilt wrapped around you.  
Darkness engulfed you quickly taking you to your dreamscape. The only thing that you enjoyed these days. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sherlock, where’s [F/n]?” John asked in the morning upon seeing your empty mattress. Sherlock sat back in his chair. “I don’t know” he replied back with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Fretting John walked around the apartment looking for his younger sister. Wondering where she would be. With no luck he walked into the kitchen to see if she was making breakfast in there. But catching his eye was a foot sticking out of the pantry. Worried John rushed other to the pantry thinking the worst.

He reefed the door open. Revealing his sister. Who was only sleeping he released a sigh of relief. What followed was a weird look. 

‘When did she start sleeping in places like this?’ he asked himself. [F/n] had seemed off for a few years. She had always blown his thought off. But this site of her sleeping huddled in a pantry furthered his belief of her not being the same.

“You can stop looking. I found her” John sarcastically half shouted to Sherlock who sat in his chair a cup of tea in hand.

Thinking it would be best not to wake you, He joined Sherlock. “I hate to tell you this John. But your sister seems more brainless than you. I wanted to know if she had brain damage at all.” Sherlock queried from his chair. His eyes met Johns swirling orbs.  
John clenched his fists trying to stop himself from punching the socio-path in front of himself.

“Why would you say that?” John asked, looking for a chance to change Sherlock’s mind. “She doesn't observe surroundings. And zones out longer than an average human should.”

“She’s been like that for a while now. Just don’t hurt or upset my sister. Or else. Sherlock. No experiments.” John warned knowing exactly what he would attempt to do.  
“Now please excuse me but I've got a date. Tell [F/n] I went out. And don’t blow up the bloody house.” John warned. Grabbing his coat he sauntered out of the flat. Excited for this date. 

“How tedious” Sherlock mumbled to himself. He sat on his chair in his usual attire.  
Groggily you open your eyes. You knew from the ache in your back that you were still in the pantry. You slowly walked out of the pantry, leaving your quilt behind. Your black tank-top rid up your stomach revealing [S/c] flesh. For bottoms you wore matching track-pants with one leg rolled up just before your knee and the other down covering your ankle. 

You rubbed your hand across your eyes getting rid of all the sleep. The morning air nipped at her your skin giving you goose bumps. 

“John?” you called out, wondering where your brother was. 

“He went on his sixth date this week. With his seventh girlfriend this month” a deep voice replied. Mentally groaning you waddled out to where Sherlock sat. Immediately his eyes snapped up to yours.

“So tell me. Do you have brain damage?” Sherlock asked in his monotone voice. His stormy depths glimmered with curiosity. Sherlock wanted to figure out this new female. He wanted to know more.  
After all mysteries were just his thing.


	2. Solitude

“Do you suffer dick syndrome?” you retort, crossing your legs. 

“What?” Sherlock asked feeling bemused at the question, ‘dick syndrome’ his mind repeated. 

"The need to act like a dick to replace the dick you’re missing. It makes sense.” You finish silencing Sherlock. 

He never had someone retort back to himself before, it was rather amusing. 

“Are you sure you’re John’s younger sister?” he questioned. 

You didn’t answer now, your mind had begun to roam free and sweep you up into your own reality. You stood in field of grass, the wind swept across your skin. Your [H/c] hair tangled in the wind. You looked around yourself the view was gorgeous. The landscape itself was stunning. Concentrating you close your eyes. You pictured him once again. But this time without the blood, without the pain glistening in his orbs and without the bullet wound.  
He soon stood a metre away from you, a smile graced his face. His straight black hair blew in the wind at a slight angle. His green orbs stared directly at you. With emotions that had your heart riveting against your rib cage.

“Interesting. How easily you slip away from this world.” Sherlock mumbled studying John’s sister. She was leaning against the couch her eyes were wide open. She looked awake but no one was home. 

This fascinated Sherlock. The man was curious on how easily you could slip into another world. 

“How did you obtain this skill?” he asked clasping his hands together.

Feeling a sudden buzz in his pocket Sherlock pulled out his mobile to see a text from John. 

‘Will not be coming back tonight, take good care of my sister – J.W’ he read in his mind.   
Happy with that text, Sherlock’s grey orbs glistened with mischief.

“I wonder what it takes to get you out of that world.” He mumbled to himself.   
Standing, Sherlock stood directly in front of you. He stared intently at your form. ‘1, 2….3’ he counted in his head before clapping loudly. This caused you to come back straight away. A look of fear filled your watering [E/c] orbs. As if it were a reflex you slammed Sherlock against the wall by his throat.   
Fear and only fear clouded your vision. This gave Sherlock a little bit of an insight into your personality. Even though this insight was important he needed to get you off his throat. 

Not having any choice Sherlock brought his knee up to your stomach. This action had you on the ground clutching your gut. You coughed and spluttered. Already feeling sick from the impact.

“I had no choice” he simply stated when you looked up at the man with blame written in your facial expressions. 

“Jerk” you spat out between small puffs of air. 

“You are an interesting creature.” He mumbled more to himself than you. ‘Was that reflex a result of the past? Could it also be connected to the sleeping in the pantry?’ his mind queried. 

You glared at Sherlock from the ground; your stomach was churning in pain. That jerk! You clench your teeth in anger. You had it figured out. You now knew where you would stand with this guy. And that was with him being your enemy. 

‘Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz’ the sound goes off in the silent apartment breaking the thick tension. 

“MURDER!” Sherlock suddenly yelled all giddy as he stared at his phone. 

“I’ve got a murder to investigate. I love this.” He chirped to himself completely ignoring you.   
In a flash he walked out of the door leaving you lying on the floor in silence. 

“THAT F*CKING PHSYCOPATH!” you screamed getting back up on your feet. 

“Its high-functioning socio-path and I need you to come now. Replacement of your brother.” His deep voice came from the door. The tone left you with no choice. 

Grunting you didn’t grab shoes you strolled right past him. ‘Who cares what people think’ you thought.   
More eager than the average human Sherlock slides straight into a cab with you following. A frustrated scowl etched into your face.

“Where are your shoes?” he casually asks as if he didn’t just rush you out.

“Really!?” you exclaim.   
Bewildered at your behaviour Sherlock turns to face the window.  
‘I wonder what type of murder it will be today’ he thought holding back a smirk.


	3. Solitude

Police are swarming everywhere; the tape is already up blocking entry to any civilian. You and Sherlock hastily get out of the cab. Sherlock is already ahead of you, he had a skip in his step with each closing minute.

“Let her through, she’s with me.” You hear Sherlock announce without glancing back at you. Ducking under the tape you follow Sherlock into the building. Officers buzzed around, with cameras and cases. You have never been to a crime scene before. 

“Ah Sherlock good to see you … Who’s that?” Lestrade questioned turning his attention towards you. You don’t even try to answer. Your eyes are focuses on the body lying in the midst of their blood. Their eyes were staring back at you. They were lifeless and empty. ‘What happens after death?’ your mind questioned causing your thoughts to wonder. 

“And I’ve lost her. Extremely unintelligent if you ask me. This is John’s younger and much less observant sister. [F/n].” Sherlock explained staring directly at your zoned out self.

Ignoring your still figure, Sherlock approached the body with ease and interest. 

“Do you have any ideas?” Lestrade asked. 

“Yes only two though. Before I tell you though. I’ll ask my assistant. Pass me your mobile.” Hesitant but curious Lestrade passed his phone to Sherlock.

Sherlock stalked towards you he held his own and Greg’s phone to each ear. Slowly he pressed a button on each phone. This simple action caused both phones to vibrate on your ears. Immediately you freaked out and went for Sherlock’s throat. Expecting this action he moved out of your reach.

“So [F/n] what do you think?” he probed staring at you with his gorgeous eyes. You stared directly back your eyes not leaving his own for a second. 

“I don’t know” you simply reply with a shrug of your shoulders. Sighing at your answer. Sherlock pinched his bridge firmly in disbelief. “How can someone be so unobservant?” He muttered to himself.

“He was stabbed in the back. The attacker had stealth and followed him for some time. From the house to around this area. Meaning the person knew the attacker.   
Assuming this the victim and attacker maybe lived together in a house… no apartment. But why would the attacker want the victim dead. And why here?”  
Looking closer to the body an idea that explained everything clicked in his brain. “An affair. The victim was having sex with the attacker’s wife. Quite cliché if you ask me. But this is child’s play. Gabe you really do underestimate me.” 

“It’s Greg.” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever you like to call yourself. I am no longer interested in this case. Too dull. Too cliché” Sherlock casually waved off the case.   
Turning on his heel he grabbed up by your thin wrist and towed you along behind him. He didn’t need you to get distracted right now.


	4. Solitude

“Wait. Did you already solve that crime?” You finally asked after zoning back into reality to find yourself in a cab travelling through London.

“Oh look you've returned to your planet.” Sherlock sarcastically remarked from beside you. 

“Why are my feet so cold?” you ask glancing down at your feet, you had completely forgotten he didn’t give you chance to put some shoes on.

Staring at Sherlock who was already observing you, you narrowed your eye into deadly slights. “Listen here. Sherly. Next time you rush me. I will have you beg for mercy twice at my own hand.” You threaten with a slight growl to your voice.

“That would be quite ambitious of you.” Sherlock stated before averting his ocean blue eyes from your own. Pouting at the ignorant man you fold your arms in what you hope to be an intimidating way and face the window. The whoosh of building has you awed at the sight. Sure you see it every day but it is always so interesting for you to watch, the passer-by’s and buildings. Seeing the different clothing styles in others. And the many ways building can be in. 

Once the cab stopped you pushed yourself out of the confined seat. Cars always made you so cramped.

“How can you be so fast yet so slow?” Sherlock questioned staring into your whirling [E/c] orbs with interest. 

“My mum was a sloth and my dad was a cheetah?” you answered back with a small grin playing at your lips.

Rolling his eyes at your lame response Sherlock unlocked the door to the apartment. With you on his tail like a fish to a hook.

“Come on Sherl. You liked that answer.” You taunted with your [H/c] fringe falling into your face.

“How do I say this politely? [F/n]?”

“With manners.” You causally replied jumping onto Johns empty chair.

“I prefer answers that are logical and smart. Unlike your ordinary people replies.” Sherlock replied with his smooth velvet voice.

“Pfftttt. I will have you know Mr. Holmes. I am not ordinary.” You claim, pushing yourself off John’s chair you stalked right up to Sherlock. Who sat down with a bored expression gracing his defined facial features.

“I would like some proof of that.” Sherlock muttered back staring directly at you. His orbs were already taunting you for a challenge. For proof.

“Well If I were ordinary would I consider you as a friend?” you question tilting your head to the side.

“I don’t consider you one. It doesn’t count.”

“Well you’re rude.”

“Entirely.”

“Dick.”

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. You assbutt.” You exclaim feeling a tinge of anger towards the man.

“Assbutt?” Sherlock asked stifling a small laugh at the insult.

“You heard me.” You reply with a smooth tone trying to pull off the cool act.

“You’re right you’re not ordinary.” 

“Really?” you asked with excitement riding up your throat. “No ordinary human with a tinge of intelligence would call someone an assbutt.” Sherlock stated with so much ease.

His comeback had you backing at the man. With no idea on what to say next. Sherlock Holmes had clearly just ‘burned’ you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It took you long enough. To update this.” Sherlock snapped towards the author. Obviously his patience had snapped from being bored for at least a week or so. 
> 
> “I can’t always update this. I get distracted with other stories. I have yet to finish.” The author defended themselves. 
> 
> “Oh. Author if only I could believe you.” Sherlock mumbled to himself pinching his bridge in what looked like a painful way.
> 
> “What do you mean?” the author asked dumfounded at the great Holmes. Smirking in the annoying way he usually does. The author automatically regretted it. She knew what that look meant. Deductions.
> 
> “You’ve been procrastinating. All the signs are there. Sunken in eye sockets from lack of sleep. Baggy clothes for lazing around in. Un-kept hair from being lazy. Imprints of the laptop’s edges evident in your wrists. Do I need to go on?” Sherlock asked in a cocky voice.
> 
> “No y-“
> 
> “Oh but I want t-“
> 
> “You just want to show off to the readers. Sherlock” The author hastily spat out, looking frustrated towards the arrogant male.
> 
> “Don’t procrastinate again. I’ll go insane from boredom.” Sherlock grumbled to himself, before completely blocking out the authors existence .


	5. Solitude

“I'm back guys!” John called from the door way of the flat. To see no one or to hear nothing. 

You were dripping wet holding a fully clothed struggling Sherlock in the shower. You normal attire was drenched from Sherlock’s struggles. 

“Let me go!” Sherlock hissed towards you, his breath fanned over your face. Your [Height] frame held him firmly in the place. The cold water washed over the both of you.

“No more skipping showers. It’s gross.” You tsked grabbing the nearest shampoo bottle you squeezed it all in his brown locks not caring whether or not it got on  
Sherlock’s clothing. 

“Wash your hair now and then you can go.” You ordered narrowing you [E/c] eyes towards the man. 

“What if I don’t? You can’t keep me in here forever.” Sherlock challenged a smug smirk graced his face straight after. 

“I didn’t want to do this.” You breathed out. Curious Sherlock watched your every move with a suspicion. 

You pulled his head down to your level. His lips were just inches away from your own. His eyes flickering colours became clearer. Shaking your head you pushed your [H/c] dripping wet hair behind your ears.

Raising your arms slightly you began to wash Sherlock’s hair, earning protests from the man claiming that he could do it himself. Ignoring him you rinsed out every once of shampoo from his dripping wet hair with a smile of satisfaction. Of the man being cleaner than before.

Stepping away from Sherlock you grabbed a clean towel from the cupboards and tossed at the man who took it with force. 

“Good boy.” You chimed. Seeing that your work was done with the now sulking male.

“You can have Billy back.” You claim picking up the skull you had threatened Sherlock with. Stepping out from behind you Sherlock snatched the skull from your wet hands. You shyly reach up to hug the soaking wet man. 

“Now you smell nice!”

Rolling his annoyed eyes at you Sherlock stepped passed you to go to his chair.

“John?” you suddenly hear Sherlock say in a shocked tone. 

“Is John back?” you asked racing to where John sat. His annoyed facial expression had you stop in your tracks. You could tell by the way your brother was averting his eyes between Sherlock and you. He had already got a bad idea.

“Can you tell me why? You and Sherlock just came out of the bathroom at the same time. Dripping wet?” John basically growled out. His eyes running over the two of you.

“It’s quite simple reall-“Sherlock began only to be cut off by your brother’s voice. 

“Before you explain this ‘misunderstanding’ go get in dry clothes. Before. You both get a cold.” John warned in his dead serious tone. 

The tone of his voice had chills of fear run down your spine. 

“Don’t argue.” You warn Sherlock, Who heaved like a child beside you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Are you going to make a habit of this updating now, or ditch it half way?" Sherlock questioned from his chair.
> 
> The author heaved a heavy sigh and flung herself onto his sofa. "I'll try to." the Author simply replies, feeling exhausted from staying up all night. 
> 
> "No you won't" Sherlock simply replied. Turning his attention back to the case he held firmly in his hands. 
> 
> "Was that chapter really necessary? You missed quite a lot didn't you?" Sherlock bluntly pointed out again. Obviously not amused with the chapter. 
> 
> "Next chapter will clear things up."
> 
> "Is that all that's happening next chapter?" Sherlock questioned.
> 
> "Stop asking or I'll make you and John kiss 'accidentally'." The author threatened. Sitting up Sherlock stared directly at her. The author stared back her eyes were challenging him already.
> 
> "You wouldn't!" He protested. Grinning from ear to ear the Author stood up and sauntered towards Sherlock.  
> Slowly she leaned down to the male’s ear. “JohnLock forever.” The Author whispered into Sherlock’s ear. A devious smiled etched onto her face. With Mischief glimmering in her eyes.  
> “Don’t test me Sherlock.” She simply warned.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am sure your ordinary brain can read the authors tedious work" Sherlock snapped , glaring at you.
> 
> "Sherlock !" the author growls out , quieting the man instantly.
> 
> "It's true Chapter summaries are always spoilers. You ordinary writers always put too much information in them. And going by how you are. You do to." Sherlock states. 
> 
> "Shut up !" the author yells , crossing her arms, annoyed at the 'great' Sherlock Holmes.

“It looks like you and Mary were busy last night.” Sherlock causally stated as. You all sat around John waiting for him to demand an explanation for the appearance. Sherlock and you were in moments ago. 

“I don’t need that image in my head Sherlock.” You spat out between clenched teeth trying to get rid of the revolting image he had put up in your head.

“Shut up. [F/n] explain.” John demanded, his usual warm eyes were cold and angry.

“Well you see. Sherlock had been skipping showers too ‘busy’ with his ‘boring’ cases, thinking I hadn’t noticed. I asked him if he was going to have one tonight. Sherlock being himself told me to shut up. So I left him for half an hour before coming back. I asked again. And he told me to shut up. And Sherlock did stink. It’s amazing that even procrastinating can make you smell that bad. Anyway to force him. I grabbed Billy. The skull. And told Sherlock I was going to dye him pink –“

“And glue a tiara to him.” Sherlock quickly interjected narrowing his accusing eyes into slits.

“And glue a tiara to him. To get Sherlock to have a shower. At first he refused until he saw how serious I was. So he attempted to chase after me. So being my amazing self I led him into the bathroom. I threw Billy behind me. And Shoved Sherlock into the shower. Basically it leads to what you witnessed. No need to worry Johnny.” You finished. Sinking further into the chair you were on. John let out a frustrated sigh. 

“I should have expected that.” John let out. 

“As if Sherlock would go for my sister or any human being to begin with.” John continued. 

Sherlock seeming to be offended of this snorted from beside me like a child. “Charming” I muttered.

“Okay. Now that is that. I don’t have to worry about the news I have to deliver.” John began. Bored already at the tone of voice he was using my eyes locked onto Sherlock’s violin. ‘I wonder what it would feel like to play that…’ my mind began to wonder.

“So you’re going back to Mary?” Sherlock asked after John finished his news. “You’re making it sound like I was kicked out. I told you it was just until [Y/n] got settled in.” John stated crossing his arms. Sherlock reminded him of an overly attached girlfriend sometimes. 

“But it was meant to take longer. I don’t want to be stuck with her!” he exclaimed pointing a finger towards you’re zoned out self.

“Oh great she’s in another world.” Sherlock sighed expecting an interesting reaction. 

“You make it sound as if; my sister living here is a bad thing.” 

“It is she forces me to do stuff when I am thinking.” Sherlock complained. Chewing on his bottom lip John shook his head. “Like look after yourself.”

“Exactly!”

“That’s a good thing. You’re just being a drama queen.”

“A what?” Sherlock asked as John stood up to reach the door. 

“I’ve gotta head back. Tell [Y/n] what I told you.” Shutting the door behind him. 

Sherlock stared at your zoned out self-pondering on how to get you out of it this time. 

Grinning to himself he went through the fridge, pushing past the human hand and eyes he had in there to grab an egg.

“Wakey, wakey.” He said in his velvet voice before he splattered the egg over your head. In shock you went to attack Sherlock once again. Only he was already prepared and had stepped away.

“Wha-what did you do that for!?” you shouted, perplexed on where John was.

“To tell you, your dear brother went to live with Mary again. Since you’re settled in.”

“And you tell me this now?” you question annoyance dripping from your voice. 

“Why do you zone out like that? I can only come up with three reasons. Neither of them are good.” Sherlock questioned oblivious to your question. He was now studying you.

“No clue. It’s natural.” You reply with an unsettling feeling at the pit of stomach.

“No it isn’t.” 

“Drop it Sherlock.” You growled, pushing yourself onto your feet, you walk right past Sherlock who studied your behaviour, “I am going to wash this egg out of my hair.” You call back, feeling the yolk slime up your [H/c] birds nest.


	7. Solitude

“[F/n] I-I lo-v-e y-o-o-u. Even Right now you *Wheeze* l-l-look b-e-e-autiful.” [Boy/n] spluttered out, his [f/c] orbs were becoming dull as each second passed.  
Tears flooded your face as you gripped his weak hand firmly, “Hang in there [B/n]!” you beg pulling him up into a final embrace. You could feel his blood seeping into your clothing. 

 

“You’ll be alright.” You whisper into his ear feeling his body become lifeless in your trembling arms. 

You wake up panting, sweat drips down your forehead and your hair covers your face. 

“Another sleepless night.” You whisper to yourself. Your eye bags were only going to get harder at concealing.

You look around the inside of your wardrobe; you had pushed all pieces of clothing to one side to give you enough room to sleep. On the floor of the wardrobe you had created a makeshift mattress with four layers of soft blankets. 

Yawning tiredly you stood up watching the top of the wardrobe, your legs ached as usual from the cramped position but you completely ignored it. Pushing the door open, you were faced with your empty bed. The only thing it was used for now was your suitcase. 

‘5:30 am’ your clock red from on the dresser John had provided you with.

‘Three hours of sleep’ you thought feeling heavy and unstable on your feet. 

Heaving a sigh you grabbed out your concealer, to apply to your eye bags. Later on you would finally get dressed. The concealer was for Sherlock. You didn't want him deducing anything more about you. And eye bags would definitely give the man some theory or narrow it down to already made up theories of his.

“Good morning” I hummed to no one in particular. Only Sherlock was lying asleep on the couch I had claimed as my own. 

The man looked so innocent and childlike in his sleep. It was hard to believe that this man was an arrogant cock. 

Slowly you walked up closer to kneel down beside the man getting a better look at his sleeping face, your eyes roamed over every facial feature. “How can you act so emotionless?” you muttered to yourself. 

Stepping back your eyes caught sight of his curly hair, what had happened last night than struck you.

‘Revenge’ your mind evilly chuckled.

Snickering at the idea, you ran towards your bedroom wasting no time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When are am I going to get a case in this story !?" Sherlock growled towards the author. Dropping his 'boring' file.
> 
> "Soon. This is leading up to it." The author defended offering an apologetic smile towards the frustrated man.
> 
> "It better be in at least the next two chapters. Author." Sherlock stated calming down.
> 
> Grinning in a twisted way the author agreed. 
> 
> "As you wish." She simply whispered with gleaming eyes.


	8. Solitude

Grinning from ear to ear, you reappeared in front of Sherlock. A Hair straightener in one hand and hair spray in the other. You already knew he wouldn’t wake up in an earthquake. You had tested how loud and rough you had to be getting him to wake up. And it took a lot of work to do so.

Smirking you plugged the straightener in; and gave it a few minutes to warm up. Carefully and gently you began to straighten his curly locks. Once you were done you hair sprayed his now straight hair so he couldn’t get rid of the straightness.

You had to move his head to do the back but luckily you did so. Now looking at the length you were surprised at how long his hair really was. His hair covered almost all of his eyes before coming close to touching his shoulders.

You couldn’t help but giggle at what he looked like with straight hair. It went from a curly mess to a straight mop sitting on his head.  
By the time Sherlock did wake up you were in the kitchen dressed and ready for the day when he came barging in. His hair sat nicely on his face. But Sherlock did not approve. “What did you do?” he growled.

“I got revenge for the egg in my hair.” You replied in a matter of factly tone. 

“You sprayed it to!” he exclaimed like a drama queen with his bangs hanging in front of his eyes. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of the man.

“I need to go have a shower!” Sherlock continued muttering curses underneath his breath. 

Just as he was about to though his phone began to ring. You watch in amusement as he picks up the phone and his expression becomes more deadly. “Why did it have to be now?” he questioned into the phone. 

“Sherlock you’ve been wanting a case for a while. This one is interesting so come over here.” Leaving no rooms for complaints Lestrade hung up his phone. Curious on why Sherlock sounded distressed.

“You are going to pay for this.” He threatens you rushing into his room to change. “I could tie it up into a pony tail if you’d like.” You offer withholding a huge smile.  
Narrowing his deadly eyes ate you; Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his neck and left with the slam of the door.

“I hope the detective enjoy his new style.” You mumble to yourself with a giddy smile covering your face. 

“What happened to your hair?” Lestrade questioned the angry looking Sherlock when he arrived on the crime scene. “Don’t ask.” He spat out between clenched teeth. Getting annoyed at his bangs hanging in his eyes making it harder to observe.

“Oh I think I want to ask.” Lestrade stated with a smug smirk covering his face as he lead Sherlock to the body. “John’s sister wanted revenge on me.” Sherlock answered.

“Who invited Justin Bieber?” Donovan asked as soon as Sherlock appeared near the dead woman lying on the side of the road. “Shut it Donovan.” Sherlock snapped scanning his eyes over the body, looking for any clues or missing items. 

“If you’re trying to look like Justin I suggest you stop right now. Sherlock.” Anderson laughed from behind the frustrated man. 

“Shut up Anderson.” Sherlock warned. Searching for a wound into the body. Until his eyes locked onto a blood in an unusual pattern. Grabbing the shirt that covered her back; he tore it in half revealing the wound.

“I never pegged you for a Belieber.” Donovan stated again enjoying the fact that she was getting on Sherlock’s nerves. 

“Maybe you do swing the other way.” Anderson suggested. 

“Shut it all of you!” Sherlock yelled, clenching and unclenching his fists he motioned for Lestrade to come over.

“Look at the simple idea to this murder that your lab monkey’s missed.” He now calmly stated revealing the word ‘catch’ carved into the victims back. Sherlock could see right down to the muscle underneath the thick layer of skin.  
What did ‘catch’ exactly mean?

“I have myself a challenge! Finally Lestrade!” Sherlock cheered stepping away from the victim with his hair in eyes once again. 

“What do you mean a challenge?” Lestrade challenged bemused at the man’s wordings. 

“This murderer left no clue, DNA and mistakes we have ourselves a hard one. I want everything you have on the case delivered later on. For now I have to pay John a harsh visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You stopped it when it just got interesting." Sherlock complained from his chair. 
> 
> "Yeah , yeah there's going to be alot more in the story now. Shake it up a little bit. Add a few twists." The author replied from the floor where she lied throwing a ball in the air.
> 
> "And you Let Donovan and Anderson actually have lines. What about Molly ? or Mary ?" Sherlock continued on causing the author to roll her eyes.
> 
> "I can't leave Donovan and Anderson out because you don't like them. Molly and Mary will come soon." The Author explained again.
> 
> "I thought Anderson didn't have his job anymore."
> 
> "I well I made him still have it. Put up with it princess." The Author retorted.
> 
> Glaring at her Sherlock picked up his violin and began to angrily screech the thing.


End file.
